Nothing more could be as sweet
When death and I finally meet.
I have wasted all the lives given
And nothing has since been proven
That I was here and meant for glory
Another hastily ended chapter
In someone’s heart thereafter.
Broken symbols and unclear paths
Have driven the mind, my once home
Into the throws of the maddened deep
Shy ghosts do not force the hand
Yet they have wept for decades.

For the time being, I am going to recognize that there is a stable form of mind to have. I have closed myself in the void and cut off all links. It has been a miserable state. I look to the hopeful future that things will not always be this way. No one likes a lunatic.

It was once a dream, now a lonely hobby where even I at times believe the need to feel a release must be acquired elsewhere. I was 14 and hesitant on believing that I didn’t have a chance in succeeding. It was for something pure that I sought desperately within it. All the times spent figuring out these complex fingering structures that made up the chords to some special tune. Then entire time, a tune played in my head all so different. That is not the case anymore.

One can strum for joy.
Many strum with guilt.

The guilt within for not pushing harder to make it. I have been known for personal sacrifices. They were ones I felt important and that I believed in seeing come to fruition. Those dreams became the reality that is my wife and marriage that I carry with her.

Why not the beating strums of my youth and the percussive imaginings? Not enough to pursue and see come alive? Perhaps it was always just a hobby and nothing more…but a Hobby that I most certainly can still enjoy.